Moments In An Eternity
by Isha-libran
Summary: A look at the relationship between Shinou and Daikenja through the ages.


**Pairings: **Shinou/Daikenja, Shinou/Murata  
**Warning: **Spoilers for Shinou's backstory, Murata's backstory and the beginning of Season three

Disclaimer: I own none of these very entertaining characters and am making no money off them, please don't sue me. Thank you.

* * *

The general frowned down at the map before him, rubbing his forehead wearily as he sought to massage away the ache that had settled itself there.

Another skirmish lost, another region conceded to Soushu.

If this kept up, there would be no point in continuing. They needed help. _He_ needed help, though he didn't like to admit it.

He looked up when his second in command entered his tent. An ugly gash ran down the side of his face, but the boy looked back at him as stoically as ever. He was young-too young to be fighting a war, by rights-but he was talented, and so he had been been moved up the ranks to his current position.

'Sir?'

'We cannot go on like this any more,' he said, straightening from his stooped position over the table. 'My plans do not seem to have the desired effect,' he admitted painfully. 'We need someone _smarter_, someone who has studied strategy and warfare.'

The man before him frowned in thought for a moment. 'There is someone, sir, but...'

He raised an eyebrow inquiringly.

'Well, sir, no one even knows who he is or what his name is...I've only ever heard rumors, myself, about a Great Wise man who lives up in the mountains near my village.'

'You have never seen him?'

His second in command shook his head. 'He never leaves his home. It is generally accepted that he is too holy to live among us common folk.'

'Surely he must come down occasionally, for food and the like?'

'He sends a carrier pigeon whenever he needs supplies-books, food, provisions-and people seeking his advice contact him the same way. They make their payment to the village headman, who keeps a tithe for himself before sending it by pigeon to the mountains.'

He paused then, and fidgeted a little. 'There was one youth, sir, one of my friends, who said he had seen him, but none of us really believed him.'

'Why not?'

'Well, he told us the Great Wise man had black hair.'

'_Black_ hair?'

'Exactly, sir. He was only a child at the time, so it was likely he was mistaken. After all, if the Wise Man really is as holy as they say, he _can't_ be black haired.'

The general let this new information sink in, while his second in command moved restlessly. Then: 'Well, the colour of his hair is immaterial. Is he truly as wise as they say?'

'People come—well, _used_ to come—even from three provinces over to seek his advice.'

'I see. How old would you say this man is?'

'Well, sir, he'd be about...your age, sir...maybe a few years older.'

He nodded as he looked down at the map again. Black haired or not, if this man was truly as wise as rumor proclaimed, he would have to make sure he joined _them_.

There was no way he would tolerate a refusal.

--

He glanced to his right, trying to fathom the man who rode beside him.

He was used to people trying to persuade him, the letters they wrote him when they asked for his help often tried to prove to him the worthiness of their cause, assuring him he would be doing a great deed for a deserving individual.

With time he had become inured against the various kinds of persuasion and argument, but he admitted to being intrigued by _this_ particular man. That he had come to meet him in person was one thing, but the general had brought another steed with him, so sure had he been that he would be able to convince him to join his army.

That kind of brash confidence was utterly alien to his own reserved, reticient nature, and he found himself oddly drawn to the other man. He radiated warmth and competency and self-assurance like a blazing sun, and he could see how the general could be a good leader of men. It seemed that he, himself, was not impervious to the man's magnetic pull.

The cause was a worthy one, of course, Soushu could not be allowed to claim the land with his darkness. He would have offered his wisdom to those who had aligned themselves against him far earlier if he had not known it would be rebuffed. But then this golden youth had come seeking _him_, seemingly unconcerned by the prejudice that gripped the rest of their kind.

Of course he had agreed to join him. Could he have done any different?

'Did you not suffer loneliness, staying up there in the mountains all by yourself?'

He bit back that retort that sprung naturally to his lips: _and I suppose the village would be accepting of a double black among them?_ He took a deep breath, controlling his emotions, as always, until he could answer calmly and evenly. 'I have been alone nearly all of my adult life. I am used to solitude, in fact it is being in the company of others that I am unaccustomed to, and find somewhat strange.'

'Do you mean I..._bother_ you?'

The man looked chargined at the thought, and not a little worried. He shook his head, giving it some thought. 'No, I find your company...refreshing,' he said finally, smiling at the other man. The general grinned back at him, and he found himself answering his earlier question candidly.

'I did suffer loneliness, occasionally. There was no help for it, though, and I had to content myself with my books.'

'Well, you will not be alone anymore,' his companion replied with a brilliant smile, before changing the subject with what he came to recognise later as the man's characteristic way of drawing him out of bad memories. 'Books? I'm fond of them myself. What do you think of Gerhard's latest? Personally, I found his conclusions faulty, but...'

--

The men beamed as he approached, happy that he had returned, but the smiles on their faces faded as they took in his companion. Many of them took an involuntary step back, tightening their holds on their weapons. Others went even further, falling back into old superstition and performing ancient hand gestures meant to ward off evil.

He noticed how his companion stiffened at the sight, but other than that, he did not repsond in any way, maintaining the neutral look on his face. They entered his tent, and a moment later, almost as if on cue, his second in command walked in.

'Sir!'

He met the boy's concerned gaze, not missing the way his eyes flickered to the double black by his side.

'This is my new strategist,' he said, while his second in command gaped. 'The man you spoke of, if you remember.' He turned away to address the man at his side. 'My second in command. He was the one to recommend you, actually.'

The double black raised an eyebrow at the younger man. 'Really? May I ask how you came to know about me?'

'I come from the village near the mountains—' he fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable under the black eyes, and the general broke in.

'You can trade reminiscences later,' he said brusquely, 'for now, ask the leaders of all the troops to report to me. My strategist needs to be appraised of our current situation. '

'But sir—'

He looked at his subordinate, who stepped closer to him, dropping his voice. His new strategist turned away to give them their privacy, pretending to be absorbed in one of the books the general had left lying on the table next to the map.

'Sir, he's a _double black_! The men are already restless, and—'

'And this is the man who can help us defeat Soushu.' He pinned his subordinate with a glare. 'I do not care if he has black hair or pink, as long as he can do that. Am I clear?'

The boy nodded, snapping to attention. 'Yes sir! I'll let the others know immediately.'

The tent flap had barely swung into place behind him when his new strategist tutted. 'You will gain nothing by antagonising your men,' he chided calmly.

The general turned to glare at him. 'I cannot have my men questioning me,' he gritted out. 'If they cannot trust my decisions, how can I trust them to follow my orders? Obedience is of paramount importance during war. If they doubt me, we are doomed to failure before we even start.'

'Very wise,' the other man smiled, snapping shut the book he held in his hands. 'It shall be as you say, though I would advise you against unnecessary harshness. They will see the wisdom of your choice once I have proven myself.'

He stared at the man, now smiling calmly without a hint of unease in his eyes as he spoke of the prejudice he was sure to encounter in the coming days.

While he had been wholly fascinated by the black hair from the very beginning, he had found it strange to look into those black eyes at first. Now, though, he found himself arrested by the man's gaze—eyes dark as midnight but glittering with intelligence and light and _life_—

He looked away quickly as the first of his men entered the tent.

--

He blinked in shock, unable to do anything but _stare_. He raised a hand to his still tingling lips, his mind a whirling roar empty of all thought.

'Have I...offended you?'

The general looked uncharacteristically nervous, clenching his hands where they lay on the table between them. The maps they had been studying still lay open on its surface, an overturned paperweight the only evidence of the kiss the general had just pressed to his lips as he had leaned across the table for a better look at them.

He shook his head numbly, and while the general looked slightly relieved, he still appeared anxious. He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, hoping to chase away the worry that lurked in his friend's eyes, but for the first time in his life, he found himself speechless.

Never could he have imagined this turn of events.

He'd be lying to himself if he tried to deny that he found the general attractive. The man had intrigued him from the moment he had met him, and as time had worn on and they had become friends, that fascination had only grown stronger, until the day he had realised he was already half in love with the man.

He had been so sure nothing would ever come of it, he had never heard of a man wanting another man as he wanted the general, certain that this was another aberration, another way he was _different_from the rest of the Mazoku.

And then this golden youth had made the first move, showing him once again that he was not alone...

'I am sorry if I have made things uncomfortable for you,' the general said now, eyes dark with anxiety, yet filled with a cautious defiance. 'But I will not apologise for feeling this way. If you wish for us to continue as we always have, I shall comply, but—' He broke off, clamping his lips shut in a tight line, but his eyes spoke of the pain he would feel.

He understood now that he was being offered a chance to grasp his happiness and hold it safe within his hands, if only he had the courage for it.

Only a fool would hesitate now. And whatever else he was, he was no fool.

With that thought, he exhaled a nervous breath as he reached a trembling hand to the general's cheek, running a thumb over his skin. The man's eyes fell shut at the hesitant touch, but not before he had seen the overwhelming relief and happiness in their depths.

_Happiness_, he thought. His lips curved as he met the general's mouth with his own, and the thought came to him that it seemed fitting that this new journey should start with a smile.

--

He groaned wordlessly, fisting his hands against the tree that scraped the bare skin of his back.

'Patience is a virtue,' a deep voice chuckled, and he bit back the plea that rose in his throat at the touch of light fingers on his burning skin. 'I would have thought a general such as yourself would have more...endurance.'

He glared at the laughing black eyes that looked into his own, deciding that he'd be _damned_ before he'd give the smug bastard the satisfaction of hearing him beg. His lover seemed to know what he was thinking, though, because a smile curved those tempting lips.

Even as he watched, the man dropped to his knees, his torturously light fingers ghosting a caress over his stomach and across his thighs. He held his breath as those fingers moved closer, closer...

Only inches away, they stopped, and he was unable to stop his twitch of anticipation at the thought of their touch. His lover looked up at him with a sly smile. 'Something the matter?'

He shook his head stubbornly, even as he breathed hard. _Touch me_...touch _me..._

His head fell back in disappointment when those teasing fingers moved to his calves next. The bark behind his head was rough, and he knew he would have dry leaves and dirt in his hair later, but for now he didn't care. His lover liked to do this, to steal away from the camp into the surrounding forest for a tryst. He often said that he liked to see him standing bare bodied among the trees, more than once comparing him to an earth spirit as they lay panting in the damp soil after long hours of exploring each other's bodies, learning their secret places and the ways they could bring each other pleasure.

Gentle fingers moved up his legs again, and this time he was unable to stop the plea that hissed past his clenched teeth: '_Please_...'

He tensed as his lover stood fluidly, meeting his lips with his own. Their breaths intermingled as they nipped at each other's mouths, and then his mouth fell open on a gasp when he felt himself encirlced surely and firmly by those wonderful hands.

It took only a few strokes to have him gasping and bucking with his release, and when he was able to open his eyes again, it was to see his lover licking slowly at his hand. The sight inflamed him, and he smiled, enjoying the thought of what he planned to do to the man now.

'My turn,' he said huskily, watching his lover's eyes widen with delight as he tumbled them both to the forest floor.

--

'Oh—forgive me—I did not know—'

He whirled at the voice, but the soldier was already backing out the of the tent, the man's embarrassed tones fading into silence as he stared at the swinging tent flap in dismay.

His lover chuckled at his side, and he turned to glare at him.

The general had been running his hands through his hair as he had sat reading at the end of the day, as was his custom. He had long learned that the man had a fascination for his hair, his lover often spent many minutes letting the strands run through his fingers as he sat in silence with him after a tiring day. He had been lulled into a false sense of security by the lateness of the hour, and the soldier had entered the tent to see the chief strategist clasping his general's head to him as the man had leaned forward to slowly run his tongue up his neck.

He could almost _hear _the whispers starting now, it was impossible to believe the soldier would keep quiet about what he had seen in his general's tent:

_He's sleeping with that double black!_

_No_—_our_ general—_sleeping with another_ man? _That too the double black?_

_Our_ general _wouldn't be doing...that...with another_ man, _would he?_

_Not with the double black!_

'What is the matter?'

He turned to meet his lover's unconcerned gaze. 'I thought you said you had done your rounds of the camp,' he said harshly.

The general nodded in reply, raising an eyebrow in inquiry. 'Yes, I did. Why do you ask?'

'Did you not see that there were still some men _awake_?'

'I did. Why does it matter?' he asked, frowing now.

'It matters because that soldier will now tell everyone that we are _lovers_,' he replied, biting back his agitation as he got to his feet and began to pace.

'Are you...ashamed...of it being known that we are intimate?'

He turned to stare at his lover, shocked that he could even suggest such a thing. 'Of course not! If you remember, however, we agreed we would be _discreet_. The last things the troops need to know is that their general is sleeping with another man, that too a double black.'

The general stood as well, and in his tone and in his eyes there was now _steel_—the same conviction that had brought them through tens of battles in the past.

'My private life has nothing to do with the war. The soldiers follow me because I am a good general, not because of what they know about my love life.'

'That may be true, but—'

'Enough!' his lover thundered, and his eyes widened at the display of anger. 'I am tired of hiding, of tiptoeing around it! The truth is that I love _you_ and I will have no other!'

He said nothing, shaking his head at the folly of the man. The general liked to think of himself as a pragmatist, but in reality he was a romantic at heart. The men may have accepted him as their chief strategist, but _he_ knew it was a different matter entirely to ask them to accept him as the partner of their lionised general.

He could not let this affect the campaign against Shoushu—he would _not_ see his lover defeated by something so petty as this.

'I will retire now,' he said finally, moving away to the tent flap. He turned to meet the other's eyes. 'I must see if there is any way to minimise the damage we will undoubtedly have to face tomorrow.'

The general's eyes narrowed as he left, but he ignored that warning sign.

Thus he was understandably stunned when his lover kissed him at the midday meal the next day, in full view of the entire camp and all its inhabitants.

This was followed by complete and utter silence for a moment, before a storm of whispers broke out. He blinked, only able to stare as Siegbert smiled his approval and clapped a hand to the general's back, earning himself a grateful smile in return. Rufus winked at him, then turned deliberately and started a conversation with the person at his side, a soldier who had been gaping at him a moment before.

Soon conversation had resumed as before, but he stayed alert for any sign of ill-will; after years of prejudice and hatred it was difficult to believe that this acceptance had been achieved so easily. Yet nothing seemed amiss, there were no veiled insults and no stares of disdain from anyone.

Eventually, he felt the tension leave him, and turned wondering eyes on his lover, now laughing at a joke his second in command was telling him. He really _should_ learn to trust him more, he mused to himself.

After all, the man never ceased to amaze him.

--

'But sire—'

'Do _not_ say that he is a double black,' the new king warned in conversational tones. 'I am well aware of that fact. That _double black _has proven himself, over and over—_he _is the reason you have a Mazoku Kingdom today.'

His advisors looked at each other, fidgeting uncomfortably. They all looked like they desperately wished to say something, but were afraid of how he would react.

He closed his eyes on a sigh. 'Out with it. I would not have anyone claim they did not have their say in my court.'

'Sire,' the oldest man present finally said hesitantly, 'you misunderstand us. Our only objection is that this union will not result in any heirs, you both being...' he swallowed hard, '...male.'

Shinou, as he was now called, frowned at the men before him. 'You would wish for my line to be continued?' he asked in puzzlement. 'Why? Bloodlines do not guarantee a just king,' he reminded them.

'Agreed, sire, and while we all hope and pray that Your Majesty will have a long and prosperous reign, what of the years that will follow? Shin Makoku is still very young, and we cannot afford the instability of a civil war between different claimants to the throne,' the man replied, more confidently now that it seemed his king would not be losing his temper. 'It would tear this fledgling kingdom apart.'

He sat back in his throne, resting his chin in his palm. This was something he had not foreseen. He did not wish to endanger his country, not when they had finally achieved their hard won peace, and yet he could not give up his heart's desire...

Angrily, he brought a fist down on the arm of his throne. To hell with the old men, he would do what _he _wanted! He opened his mouth, enjoying the way his advisors shrank back from the scowl on his face—

'Your Majesty.'

The advisors sighed in ill-disguised relief as he turned to the calm voice that had spoken at his shoulder. He had sent the man away on an errand, hoping it would keep him busy until he could have this talk with his advisors, but as always, he thought irritatedly, it seemed his plans left something to be desired.

'Daikenja,' the oldest advisor appealed to him now. 'Surely _you_ can see our predicament.'

'I am afraid I do not follow,' the man replied, still smiling calmly at them. 'Please start from the beginning.'

As the advisors spoke, Shinou observed his lover's expression. He seemed the same outwardly, but he who knew him so well could see the evidence of his disquiet. The very depth of his restraint showed how deeply he was affected; where _he_ blazed when angered or provoked, his lover was like cold fire, turning diamond hard and brittle instead.

'I see,' he said finally, his tone still even and controlled, despite the feverish glitter in those black eyes. 'Leave us now, His Majesty and I would discuss this in private.'

The advisors bowed as they left, looking vastly relieved. He waited until the door had closed behind them before turning to the man beside him.

'So, _Daikenja_,' he bit out, 'what words of wisdom do you have for me now?'

His lover flinched at the snarled epithet, turning to meet his gaze. 'Surely you already know what I plan to say,' he said reproachfully.

'I cannot aspire to such wisdom,' he growled in reply, angry now at the man for beating around the bush. 'Say what you will, do not hide behind words!'

Daikenja sighed and bowed his head for a moment before lifting his head to meet his gaze again. 'You must do as the advisors say,' he said simply. 'We cannot jeopardise the future of this country for our own happiness.'

He sprang up from the throne at the softly spoken words, unable to sit still and listen to that calm voice telling him this. He had been expecting it, but that did not lessen his anger any. He stalked down the stairs, whirling around on the lowest step to glare up at his lover.

'You may be ready to play the martyr, but do not expect me to do the same! We have struggled too long and too hard for us to live out the rest of our days in the misery you would have us choose!'

'Shinou—'

'No! I will not give you up!' He bounded up the stairs to draw his lover into his arms, despite his stiff posture. 'You cannot mean you will be happy without me,' he said desperately, kissing him passionately despite his lack of response, hoping he could convince the other man. After a long, long moment, while his heart thundered in his chest in equal parts fear and hope, Daikenja slackened in his grip, his back losing its rigidity under his fingers, drawing his own arms around him to return the kiss with equal fervour.

When they broke apart, they were both breathing hard. 'Please,' Shinou said brokenly, clutching his lover to him, '_please_. I'm begging you. Do not ask this of me.'

Daikenja nodded, smoothing his long, clever fingers over the hair at the back of his neck, the motion that of a man soothing a frightened, high strung animal.

'I'll find a way.'

He was as good as his word, and two weeks later, the advisors agreed to let His Majesty and his chosen consort continue as they always had, as long as His Majesty consented to beget an heir by a lady of noble birth chosen by the Ten Nobles.

--

'It's not true, is it?'

He turned away, unable to meet the pleading eyes of the man before him, and Lord von Wincott answered in his stead: 'It is true. Shinou is dead.'

Lawrence Weller let out a wordless cry of disbelief and grief, falling back a step. 'But how?' he asked, eyes moving from von Wincott to him. 'How could this _happen_?'

The same question from everyone, he thought wryly. He could understand it, in a way. Shinou always seemed—_had_ always seemed—too _alive _for anyone to ever associate death with him in any way. Burning bright like the midday sun, it had seemed inconcievable that that light could ever be eclipsed.

He recalled Shinou calling him the moon to his sun, and smiled bitterly. The moon had finally eclipsed the sun, as everyone had always feared it would. Perhaps it would have been better if Shinou had heeded them when they had warned him against a double black like him, for hadn't it been his faulty plan—_his _failed strategy to defeat Soushu—that had led them to this?

_Ah, Shinou, that we had so little time together..._

With an effort, he banished the anguish of a bereaved lover, locking it deep within his heart, to be brought out later when there would be time for recriminations and despair and what-ifs..._now_, there was work to be done.

Shinou had gone to his death smiling, because he had truly believed that he would find a way to set him free one day.

He would not let him down.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke for the first time since all the Keys had been gathered in one room again: 'It was Soushu.'

They all looked at him in various states of disbelief and doubt, and he went on, _Daikenja_ again, for this was his final task and he could not fail now, after all, he had promised as such when he had taken on the role given to him by a man with sun kissed hair so long ago.

--

It has been four thousand years since he had last walked these lands, and much was changed. His hair was shorter, though still black, and his eyes were now hidden behind glasses.

Some things were still the same, however.

He looked up at the royal crest he had designed himself in the early days of the kingdom, with Shinou looking over his shoulder as he had worked, calling out suggestions and improvements...

'Your Eminence?'

'Ulrike.'

It had taken him a moment to remember her name, Ondine had been the priestess he had left in the Temple he had designed for Shinou, and her name still sprang to his lips when he stood here in this place full of the memories of those days and those times.

'Ulrike, I think I'd like to spend a few moments here by myself, if you don't mind.' He smiled at the girl as her eyes widened and she nodded, calling to the shrine maidens to leave with her.

Once they were alone, Murata looked up at the crest again, finally allowing a small smile to cross his lips.

'It has taken me a while, Shinou, but I'm finally here. Sorry to keep you waiting so long.'

--

His footsteps echoed hollowly down the long, empty passageways as he made his way to his destination. The party celebrating the Maou's miraculous return had gone well into the night, and he knew the inhabitants of the castle would be dead to the world at this late hour.

Murata turned a corner, stopping when he caught sight of the two portraits that now hung on the wall again. It seemed they had been repaired in the days he and Shibuya had spent on Earth. He slowed his pace, both unwilling and desperate to see them now that he was only steps away.

Finally, the large portrait of Shinou came into view, and he stopped before it, drinking in the image of the man he had loved for so long and lost again so recently. The royal artist he had commissioned in that other life had done the king justice, the pose had been one Shinou had often favoured, hand on his hip as he smiled confidently at the world. His blue eyes were looking off into the distance, as if fixed on something better to look at than _him_.

He reached a trembling hand to Shinou's face, stopping himself when his fingertips were only inches away from touching the canvas. Nothing would be gained by this pointless slide into maudlin sentimentality. He slowly made a fist and retracted his arm.

Soushu and Shinou were both gone, but Shin Makoku still stood.

It was time for him to learn to let the past remain in the past. It was enough that these two portraits had hung side by side for thousands of years, and that they would continue to do so for many more years to come.

With a deep breath, he turned and walked away. He did not look back.

--

'Your Eminence, Lady Ulrike has asked to see you.'

Murata sighed as he stepped away from the squeaky door hinge he had been attempting to mend. It really was frustrating that the shrine maidens seemed to think of him as a convenient handyman, but if that was the price for staying at Shinou Temple...

He wiped his hands on a nearby rag and followed the maiden who had brought him the message from Ulrike. She led him to the altar where the Boxes were still gathered, and he felt a momentary beat of trepidation. Had something gone wrong? He quickened his steps, the maiden at his side lengthening her pace to match his as he strode quickly to the door and flung it open without waiting for her to open it.

'Ulrike, what's wrong?'

The priestess turned to the shrine maiden and nodded at her. The girl nodded in return, bowing herself out and closing the doors behind her.

'Your Eminence,' the priestess said slowly, 'I asked you to come here because for the past few days, I've been sensing...a presence.'

No. Soushu couldn't have lingered here, after all they had lost to defeat him. That darkness had vanished, he had been sure of it.

Ulrike must have seen his involuntary glance at the Boxes, because she shook her head. 'It is nothing to be worried about, Your Eminence.' She gave him a sunny smile, and he blinked in confusion.

Even as he watched, a figure stepped out of the shadows that surrounded the Boxes. His eyes widened as the figure moved into the light, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

'Shinou?' he whispered, taking a step forward. 'But..._how_?'

'Oh, I decided to hang around,' his long lost lover said casually, walking down the stairs until he stood before him. 'I confess to some curiosity about the future—I wanted to see where Yuuri would lead my kingdom.'

Shinou met his eyes then, and smiled brilliantly at him.

'Besides, I once promised you that you would never be alone again, remember?'

* * *

A/N: Gah. This started out as a tiny little ficlet, but then it just grew and _grew_ until it turned into this monster.

So yeah, it's part of my 'headcanon' that the reason Shin Makoku is so accepting of same sex relationships is because Shinou was gay.

Also, it's my first time writing Shinou/Dainkenja, so please to be gentle with your concrit, readers. :wibbles:


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